


as long as i'm here (no one can hurt you)

by xelly



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xelly/pseuds/xelly
Summary: Adora has been gone from Bright Moon for a week and comes back to find Catra is... not great. There is only someone to blame for it, but Adora has to comfort Catra first.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 250





	as long as i'm here (no one can hurt you)

**Author's Note:**

> Or how I like to call it "Shadow Weaver Gets Thwarted By Catra Engaging With Healthy Coping Mechanisms”.
> 
> Title: everything i wanted by Billie Eilish.

The first thing Adora does when she arrives at Bright Moon is ask after Catra. Or in the rare case she runs into her instead, she asks her how she's doing in her absence. At first this was born from a worried place. Naturally, she knew Catra got along better with Glimmer and Bow now, that didn't stop her from conjuring up scenarios where things could have gone wrong between the three. 

They never did. But she still asks after her. She likes to believe it's just habit now. In reality, she just likes to know what Catra gets up to. And she likes to hear her talk. 

Today, she runs into Bow in the way in. He waves at her, grinning. Adora is quick to go hug him. “Hi, Bow,” she greets him. “I missed you.” 

“You were gone a week,” he teases. 

“So?” 

Bow laughs a little. “How did things go?” 

“Things were good. The rebuilding in the south part of the kingdom is almost done. Perks of having Scorpia helping, I think.” 

Adora glances around the empty patio, there's only Bow and the guards at the door. “Before you ask, I think she's training,” Bow sighs, shaking his head with a fondness she doesn't like one bit. 

Her face goes hot. “I—I didn't ask anything,” she scoffs, her voice going to a  _ way _ too loud pitch. Bow lifts a knowing eyebrow, but she's nothing if not stubborn. She clears her throat. “How were things this week?” 

Her friend—her nosey, infuriating friend—allows her to change the subject without actually changing it. He tells her about the goings of the castle, how their rebuilding progress is advancing and the things he and Glimmer ate last night. Fish, out of all things. Catra likes fish. 

But Bow makes no mention of her. In fact, he avoids the subject of Catra completely. Adora has to bite her tongue. She  _ can  _ go more than five minutes without asking for her. 

Glimmer is in the council room, papers strewn about the table. King Micah is grinning down at her while she hides between her arms, groaning her suffering. “For the last time, dad,  _ I don't like her _ .”

She and Bow share a fleeting glance. Who might this mysterious 'she' be? Adora makes a note to find out later. 

“Good evening,” she greets the pair. 

King Micah still grins mischievously when he glances up to her. “Hello, Adora.” 

“Hey,” Glimmer grunts, sounding beyond miserable. How unbecoming of a queen. “How were things?” 

“Ah, things are good. I got to talk to Scorpia, she told me she should come back some time next week. To oversee the rebuilding of the Fright Zone.”

That territory  _ is _ her kingdom, after all. The place suffered a great deal with Horde Prime's invasion. There's hardly anything salveable of it, especially after Entrapta raided the rubble for technology. Adora thinks it was a good decision Scorpia decided to raze the whole place to the ground and start it all over again. A clean slate. 

“Did she get Frosta to help her at the end?” 

“Yeah.” Her mouth curls in a grin. “It didn't take that much convincing, actually, but you didn't hear it from me.”

Glimmer chuckles. “Finally, some good news and good company,” she says, throwing a pointed look to her father. 

Adora still finds herself awed by the interaction between the two. The bickering. It's so different. After they got over the joy and tears of being reunited, it became an endlessly amusing competition of who could get sassier. She's happy for them, despite all of the silly arguments, she knows they love each other. 

“Anyway, you haven't had dinner yet, have you? Let's go eat something,” Glimmer offers, already standing up, work and papers forgotten. 

“Oh, uh. I was, er, hoping I could talk to Catra,” she mumbled. “I didn't see her around.” 

Adora braces herself for the knowing looks and the heavily implied teasing, her cheeks are already feeling hot. But Glimmer winces instead. “Ah, Catra.” 

“What about her?” 

“Listen, we've tried but—” A sigh “—you know how she gets.” 

King Micah steps forward. “The poor girl has been training non-stop the whole week. Ever since you left.”

“I found her passed out in the gym twice now,” Bow admits. “I tried to get her to tell me what's wrong, but she only snapped at me and told me to mind my own business.”

Her brow creases. “Do you have any idea what might have happened to upset her?” 

“I think I have an idea,” King Micah says flatly. It isn't hard to guess at what it might be. 

Adora scowls and closes her eyes. “Fuck,” she hisses. “We have rules for a reason.”

Bow puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. She doesn't think even one of his heavenly massages can get rid on the tension lining her muscles. “Catra hasn't said anything.” 

And she won't. Adora knows her too well, knows she is too proud to admit that someone got under her skin. Especially if that person is Shadow Weaver. 

“We don't know if it was her,” Glimmer points out. 

Adora bites down a cutting reply. She and Glimmer might have made up, but her privilege of a doubt attitude to the woman did more damage than good between them. “I'm going to find her,” she mutters as she goes. 

* * *

Catra is in the close-roof gym, her back to Adora. It gives her ample opportunity to watch her muscles shift and tense with each punch she gives the punching bag. One-two, kick. One-two, one-two, one-two, kick. 

Her shirt is damp with sweat. 

She's going to run herself to the ground at this point. Catra isn't much of a brawler. Her fights are won with speed and stealth and a few, very few, well-placed hits. Adora can tell that she's exhausted, her blows get sloppy. And yet, she doesn't show signs of stopping. 

Adora gets it, really. The need to have it out. But this has been going for a week. At best. Catra is sneaky, she can fool the guards and slip unnoticed for far more than that. 

“Hey, Catra,” she calls out to her, putting up her most convincing tone and smile. 

Catra stumbles in her next kick, almost losing balance. It lands rather weakly in the punch bag. She is slightly shocked at having snuck up on her. No one does, not anymore. However, she recovers fast, glancing over her shoulder. 

“Hey, Adora,” she says. It comes out rather flatly. If she hadn't known something was amiss, this would've definitely tipped her off. “I thought you'd be back tomorrow morning.”

She goes back to her punches. Adora circles Catra so she can see half her face, she still has the cheery smile on her face. “Things got wrapped up earlier and, honestly, I didn't want to spend another night freezing my butt off.”

It isn't that it's too cold in Frosta's kingdom, it's that she had no one to keep her warm at night. An occurrence that has been happening more often than not here in Bright Moon.

Catra's eyes flicker briefly towards her, assessing the generous distance between them. Adora doesn't go any closer to her, keeps her hands behind her back and smiles like it doesn't hurt to keep the distance, like she doesn't know  _ why  _ Catra needs it. It's gotten better, but she's not about to step on her boundaries. She still flinches when someone tries to high-five her. 

Adora shakes those thoughts off. “Hey, wanna go grab dinner? It's getting late.”

“I'm not hungry, thanks,” Catra replies calmly.  _ Politely _ . It sets her on edge. She's many things but those two aren't them. 

Undeterred, she presses on, “Well, you could come keep me company for a while. We haven't had a good talk since I left. Scorpia says hi, by the way.” A beat of silence. “You could come next time. I'm think you'd like it there. It's definitely a perk that your feet don't get as cold as mine. And the ice cream is  _ so _ good. Did you know that there are more flavors than chocolate and vanilla?”

One-two. “Really? Sounds great.”

Adora has to take a deep breath. Silence spreads between them where the only thing speaking is Catra's hits. She's sure she likes it better that way, but that doesn't stop her. 

“Training alone?” 

“No one wants to spar with me anymore.” 

Understandable. Catra is a scary opponent on good days, it only worsens when she's in a mood where she doesn't particularly care about being rougher than necessary. 

“I mean, it's hard to when you're going to win anyway.”

Catras stops her attack for a second, as she steadies the bag, gripping it tighter than she has to. She chuckles. There's no denying the bitterness in the sound. 

“It is.” 

Adora fights off a grimace. She knows there's a lot much more than cockiness behind her words, has a good idea as to what it is, too. But she swallows an apology for her own hypocrisy. It doesn't matter anyway, that's in the past. Catra can and has beat her. And Adora, without She-Ra's strength anymore, is now nothing else than a decent match by virtue of having known Catra's fighting style for years. 

With a sigh, she resigns. There's no luring her away from here. “Talk to me,” she pleads. 

Catra's ear flickers towards her, so she knows she heard her. No answer come for a moment. 

“I don't want to talk.”

“Fine, but let's get out of here. Please.” 

“I'm fine here.  _ Thanks _ .” 

“No, you aren't. You're tired.”

Anger constricts her features. Hits get harder. “I know my limits, Adora,” she spits her name. She sees it for the warning it is. 

She doesn't heed it. “You're purposefully ignoring them.” She walks around Catra, going to stand at the other side of the punching bag. She holds it. “You're exhausting yourself.”

“Don't preach to me, you're ten times worse,” Catra growls. 

Adora arches a brow. “Well, it is very fortunate that there's always someone to stop me from doing this sort of things. Even when they have no reason to know in the first place.”

Her suspicious are confirmed when Catra's already flushed face goes another shade redder. Of course. Adora has gotten good at slipping around unseen, it's only natural Catra is the one who can keep up. 

“It's just training. It's not like I'm hurting myself.”

“You will if you keep this up. You've been like this the whole week.”

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Adora?” she accuses. 

“That's more your thing, anyway.”

“ _ Fuck off _ .”

“No. You need to stop.”

“I need you to leave me the fuck alone,” Catra growls. 

She punches twice. The force of it makes Adora dig her heels in to not be thrown back. “What happened?” Catra doesn't answer. Adora waits and waits, but no reply come. “All right, be like that.”

Catra glances at her for a moment, confused at the lack of insistence on her part. But Adora is already turning around. Only that she isn't heading out, but to the changing room attached to the chamber. She goes out again, wearing more comfortable clothes for training. 

“What are you doing now?” Catra hisses. 

She shrugs. “Training, obviously.”

“You're so full of shit. Go to sleep.”

Adora gives Catra a shit-eating grin that is guaranteed to make her see red. “Nope. Feel like training, too.”

“Are you for real? You just came back from Frosta's kingdom. Go rest before you keel over, dumbass.” 

She  _ is  _ tired, she is also stubborn as fuck. So she brushes off Catra's concerns and pushes through her routine of warm-ups. It's more slow and not as rigorous as she's used to, but still. 

Catra is quiet for five solid minutes, scoffing her annoyance until she can't take it anymore. Adora has her forehead pressed against her thighs. She's not Catra but she's still fairly flexible. Speaking of whom. She's standing in front of her. Adora turns her face to watch her, grinning. 

“May I help you?” 

“All right, cut it,” she demands, arms crossed. “Go to bed, I mean it.”

Adora stands upright again, a scowl heavy in her face. “Not if you're not coming with me!” She regrets the loud words as soon as they leave her mouth. A blush overpowers her cheeks. “I mean—” 

Catra throws her hands up to the ceiling. “I know what you mean,” she hisses. It speaks volumes how she doesn't even take the opportunity to tease Adora's slip. 

She squints at her. “Who are you mad at? Was it Glimmer? Bow? Did they do something?”

It is highly unlikely. Despite everything, she and Glimmer have come to understand and actually  _ like _ each other. And Bow just cannot piss someone off by accident, not even Catra. 

“ _ No. _ ” 

“A guard?” Catra purses her mouth. “Is it me? Did I do something?” 

Adora feels a bolt of dread pierce her chest. She thought that Shadow Weaver was to blame, but maybe she's just only made another mistake, one of many. 

Catra softens her features, sighs, even if all of the tension doesn't leave her body. “We're okay. You didn't do anything.”

Relief washes over Adora, but it's short-lived. If it isn't her or any of her friends, or anyone from the Rebellion, then her suspicious are as well as confirmed. Still, she asks, “Then what is it?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Adora reaches out for Catra's hand slowly, giving her time to tell her to back off. She doesn't, and so she holds her hand, turning it so she can see the deep bruises coloring her knuckles. 

“This isn't helping either. You're just hurting yourself at this point.”

She raises her eyes to her, but Catra is looking away. “Maybe that's what I deserve.”

The words leave Adora chilled to the bone. “Don't. Don't say that.”

Catra huffs, her mouth turning up in a hateful smile. She's seen it enough by now, only that now it isn't directed at her. “It's true.”

“It's not. You're wrong, you hear me? You're wrong.” Adora lets go of her hand to grip her shoulder, tipping her chin towards her. She will  _ hear  _ this. “You don't deserve to be hurt, okay? Never. Who told you that?” 

Catra scoffs. “She didn't need to,” she muttered. Then her eyes widened. 

“ _ She _ ,” Adora repeats icily. “What  _ she _ ?” 

Catra shrinks out of her touch. That settles it then.

“Shadow Weaver talked to you, didn't she?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“There are rules—” 

“ _ I don't need some stupid rules _ ,” Catra snarls, her ears flattened against her head. “I didn't need them then and I assure you I don't need them know. I can protect myself.”

“Catra, I know. We all know. But Shadow Weaver—” 

“ _ Is nothing _ ,” she bites out, a warning in her voice. “I'm over her.”

Adora knows denial when it glares at her, she's seen it far too many times in the mirror. So she retreats. Sort of. “Spar with me?” 

Catra is taken aback for a moment, blinking up at her like she's lost her mind. She recovers quickly, though. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Of course not. Get out of here.” 

She considers Catra, smirking. “Know what? One round, if you beat me, I'll get out of your hair.”

Catra scoffs. “ _As_ _if_. I'll beat you when you stop looking like you're about to pass out.”

Adora would gladly do so, if it means she gets Catra to take her back inside afterwards, just like she knows she will. “What? Are you afraid little ol' me will wipe the floor with you?” 

“No, Adora. I'm not sparring with you.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

Adora goes back her stretchings. She puts her legs together and then tries to touch her toes. She's sure Catra can put the palm of her hands flat on the floor. Adora tries to push herself further down as Catra groans and huffs. 

Adora lifts her head to watch her hands curling slightly, glaring down at her. She waits, and waits for Catra to break. Only that she doesn't say a word, deciding instead to keep her heavy glaring. 

“Your knees are flexing,” she grounds out. 

“They aren't.”

Adora crouches down, sits on the floor and extends her legs, lying her forehead to her thighs. She breathes out the pull she feels behind her legs. It's kind of relaxing, actually. Until Catra comes ruin it. She slides one foot in the space where her chest doesn't quite touch her legs, and pushes down. 

“You jerk,” Adora hisses with pain. 

“You want to train? Then do it right,” Catra coos, an unimpressed brow arched. 

Adora sits again, slaps Catra's leg off her. It's astounding, really, how big of a jerk someone so small can be. Though she doesn't say that out loud, it only increases her meanness. 

“As you say, sir.”

“Ma'am,” Catra deadpans. 

Adora glares. Catra glares right back. 

Adora folds her legs in a butterfly position. “Are you done, then? Or are you going to walk me through my warm-ups like a toddler?”

“You'd like that.”

“Honestly, Catra, I'd like eight hours of sleep. But I'm not leaving until you do.” She shrugs. “Might as well use the time to work on my flexibility. I'm feeling like doing some tumbles.”

Catra clenches and unclenches her hands. She breathes deeply, dragging her claws down her face. “You know what? Do whatever the hell you want, you're not my babysitter and I'm not yours. Go break your neck if that's what you want.” 

“She taunted you about me, didn't she? You don't want me to go to sleep, you want to avoid me. Is that it?” 

Adora is regretting pushing Catra for answers, at the end, it only serves her to make her snap. She braces herself for the cutting avoidal, but instead, Catra huffs flippantly. 

“What she says doesn't matter to me,” she says. “The things she says about—about us, they don't mean anything to me.” 

The fact she admits that Shadow Weaver did say something is shocking in and of itself. Adora watches her, brows knitting together. 

“You can admit it, you know? That she affects you.”

Catra glares down to her, she can almost hear her offense.  _ How dare you imply I might be affected by anything _ , she can already hear her say. But Catra is full of surprises tonight, for she only mutters, “Just like you admit to it?” 

Adora just about chokes in her own denial. Her walls snap up immediately and she flinches. Too close home. Way too close. She has to take a long few seconds to tears that awful wall down. If she wants Catra to speak of her feelings, she has to give something back. It's only fair. 

“Well, she does,” Adora mutters, glancing away. She still sees Catra's ears flick in her direction. “It bothers me that no one understands  _ why _ , that everyone acts like what she did to you and what she did to me doesn't matter anymore. People don't really get it. And even you don't fully understand how much she hurt me because it's not as… visible, I guess? It's not obvious and it's just another of her mind games, you know? Like, she wants me to believe it's all inside my head. But it's not. And I can't never explain why… I just—I wish I could explain while it hurts to still—to feel like, like I still have to prove myself to her.”

Adora lets her shoulders drop. She flexes her legs and holds them close to her chest, chin on her knees. What is Catra thinking, she wonders. That she must be wrong at the head, most likely. She doesn't want to look up and see the disgust in her face. This feels dirty, somehow. 

“It hurts, doesn't it?” Catra mumbles. “Never being enough, I mean.”

“The truth is, Catra, that I was only enough until I stopped following her orders. And now, for some reason, I can't stand that she acts so caring and motherly to Glimmer.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “How much more hypocrite do you think I can get? I do love being the favorite.”

Catra's almost silent feet pad around Adora, she doesn't have the strength to look up. She thinks she will leave, but to her endless shock, she settles against Adora. 

They stay like that for a long while, back to back. A quick look over her shoulder, tells Adora Catra is in the same sitting position as she is, chin tucked in her knees. 

“I get jealous, too,” Catra confesses. “But it's mostly anger. Actually, it's a lot of things and I don't know where one ends and the other begins.”

“It's tangled.”

Catra is silent for a beat. “Yes,” she says quietly. “And you know, it's not really what she says or what she does, it's how… how it lingers. How she makes me doubt everything. And that, that will make me go insane one of these days. It's not fair, y'know? I've worked hard to get out of that mindset and she just can push me back into it like it's  _ nothing _ .”

Adora frowns. This is shitty. Their childhood is shitty and this whole thing with Shadow Weaver fucking sucks. Shadow Weaver sucks and the day she gets thrown into a dark pit can't come quick enough. But that doesn't change what's happening now, and unlike when they were children, Adora learned how to break this maddening circle they both will fall into again. 

Twisting around a little, she puts her cheek on Catra's shoulder. “Talk it out. This is what she did to us years ago and that's what she's trying to do to us now. Don't play her game anymore.”

Catra stiffens. 

“Oh.”

* * *

_ Oh.  _

That  _ bitch _ . 

“She's going to turn us against each other if we let her,” Adora goes on. “She did it once before.”

Catra isn't sure Shadow Weaver ever expected them to turn into enemies like that. Didn't think she could have ever predicted Adora would deflect. But she  _ knew _ what she was doing in cultivating the resent in Catra for her best friend, in letting it fester for so many years. And now—and now if it wasn't for Adora's stubbornness, she would have gone days without speaking to her until she managed to bury the things Shadow Weaver told her, the things that still haunt her and the demons inside her head that they stir. 

“What did she say to you?” 

Catra glares at an undefined spot in front of her. She doesn't want to recall, but she already is.

“I couldn't sleep,” she beings in a whisper.

* * *

Catra is sneaking around. As a cat, that's what she does. She also can't sleep. Adora's absence leaves her restless; not that she would admit it to her anyway. Or to anyone else. She had, however, noticed the knowing, sympathetic looks Bow directed her way at random times. 

She's had to fight a hiss or two, or five. He  _ is _ annoying, but there's something about him that makes it impossible for her to be really annoyed at him. Let alone angry. Which is, honestly, impressive.

Catra is always angry. For some reason or another. It's like a talent.

She usually goes out to roam the castle when she can't sleep. Some cat instincts that never quite left her, which only makes her prone to staying up at night and sleep in the afternoons. And without Adora to rub her back into sleepiness, she just can't go now. 

The guards are used to her by now, so they only nod at her as she passes them. She usually avoids them though, preferring to stick to lonelier areas.

It's just her fortune she runs into Shadow Weaver, so far from prying ears or saviour eyes. There's a joke to be made about cats and luck, but Catra is shaking at the sight of the woman. From fear or anger, she has no idea. It's probably both. 

They haven't seen each other since the day Catra opened the portal, almost a year ago. Despite both living in the castle now, she knows they're forbidden from talking to each other. At least officially. It's Shadow Weaver who can't seek out catra. And even if her pride is bruised at the coddling, Catra doesn't seek her out either just to prove that she can. 

And now. Now she can understand why people were worried.

Catra curls her fingers, ears flattened against her head. “What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you, I'd wager.” 

Shadow Weaver still wears her mask, but Catra knows her enough that when she tilts her head to the side, she knows the mind games are about to start. But she won't give her the satisfaction of seeing her brace herself. 

“Seems like life at Bright Moon isn't what you're used to, huh? So many problems with sleeping.” 

She doesn't answer. Her mind tells her she should turn around and leave the way she came, Shadow Weaver won't dare pursue her where others might report to Glimmer—her relationship with the queen is already in shambles as it is. But Catra can't, she  _ can't _ flee like a coward. Yet, she doesn't answer her.

“You gave up all that power for this, and you can't even sleep at night? Seems like a bad bargain.” 

“Because you know all about that, don't you?” Catra snarls lowly. 

“I thought I raised you better than that, I thought you were more ambitious than that. But you were always a disappointment. And you could never stop following Adora like the pet you are.” 

The words grate on her, make her hackles raise. She feels the satisfaction rolling off waves from Shadow Weaver, at knowing she riled her up successfully. 

“Adora. Yet another of my greatest disappointments,” she laments. “Both of you girls turned out to be. Just a waste of my time.” 

It's Adora's name what draws her short of slicing Shadow Weaver's throat with her claws. A disappointment. She thinks  _ Adora _ is a disappointment. It elicits a stunned laugh from her.

“Oh.  _ Oh _ , you mean, as in, Adora, the literal saviour of Etheria? As in, She-Ra. The girl  _ you _ raised and  _ you _ couldn't keep from leaving.” Catra laughs, the sound sharper than her class could ever be. “This is so rich. But, please, do go on.” 

“You insolent  _ beast _ ,” she spits. Catra wants to flinch at the tone, but as everything scary in life, she responds to it with more laughter.

“Have you told her that? I'm  _ sooo _ sure she'll care about what a disgraced, second-rate sorceress has to say about her. Or such a sorry former second-in-command. Or a failed attempt at advicer.” She smirks when the woman stiffens. “Really, Shadow Weaver? You couldn't manipulate  _ Glimmer _ ? You've really lost your touch.” 

Shadow Weaver takes a step to Catra. Her fur stands on edge, trying to make her seem larger than she really is. But she doesn't retreat, doesn't yield an inch. Retreating always earned her harsher punishments. But Shadow Weaver can't punish her anymore. So she laughs through the panic building in her head. 

“Then again, you can't possibly need more than party tricks to manipulate children, flatter them. Or to scare them into behaving,” she goes on. “Seems like the first one didn't get you anywhere. And you know better than to use the second.” 

Catra makes a show of sweeping her eyes from Shadow Weaver's feet all the way up to the empty slot where the red stone used to be. She took everything from this woman, almost as much as she took from her in the first place. It still doesn't feel like she's suffered enough. 

“Let's not have a repeat of that.” 

Shadow Weaver chuckles under her breath. “Keep posturing and convincing yourself that you are brave. You and I both know that you're only a pathetic little monster yearning for a scrap of love and validation. You're worthless.” 

It cuts deep. It makes the stitches barely holding her together rip and the old wound to start bleeding again. But she grins. “It only makes it sweeter to know how it keeps you up at night, to know you wonder how such a fuck-up like me could achieve twice as what your little brain could ever conjure, twice as fast. Make no mistake, Shadow Weaver, I'm way past you. You're nothing to me, you're nothing but a bootlicker, useless, worthless worm that will get what is coming to her.  _ You are over _ .” 

And Shadow Weaver recoils away from Catra. She doesn't care why, if it's because she fears her or because her shot in the dark landed true. But she rides off the high it gives her. The rush of power at knowing she has something over her head, the woman that always seemed so large, who no matter what, always hovered just above Catra her whole life. 

She leaves before it wears off. Before reality can catch up on her. And she doesn't look back. 

* * *

Adora listens to Catra's retelling without saying a word. She can tell it costs her to admit not only what she did and how she reacted, but how she felt. Catra is not one for talking her feelings out. Adora isn't either, for that matter, it just doesn't come naturally to her but she's trying. She's proud that Catra tries too.

“I don't know what's her gods-damned problem with us. She's sick, that's what she is.” 

“We don't have to prove anything to her.” 

Adora has her chin on Catra's shoulder, so she sees clearly when she curls her claws in frustration. “But that's the thing! _ I did _ . I proved myself time and time again, I did everything everyone said I wouldn't.” She makes a choking sound. “I beat you, then I beat her. I came closer than any of those fuckers ever did!” Catra is breathing heavily now, there is no rhythm to it. “Why isn't it good enough for anyone?” she finishes quietly, her words raspy and hoarse. 

Adora has her arms around Catra's waist in a moment. She waits for her to stiffen, but Catra doesn't. She lets out a shaky exhale, then her chest spasms and she makes another of those choking sounds. “You are enough, Catra,” Adora says softly. “I don't care if you overthrow an evil overlord because you feel like being more evil than him, or if you're beating me up black and blue, or if you just decide you rather be napping away the better part of the day, you are good enough. You deserve the friends you have and the affection you crave. You deserve everything you want.” 

Adora feels herself wanting to start crying, too. Because Catra is crying. And it hurts as much as it heals. 

“Maybe there'll always be a part of you that will yearn to hear this from Shadow Weaver. But the fact that she can't see it doesn't mean any of what I said is untrue. And it doesn't stop me, or Glimmer, or Scorpia from seeing it. And when you're ready, it won't stop you either.” 

Catra sniffs, sobs. And then she twists within Adora's hold. She doesn't let go, even if she is surprised. She holds her steadfast, cradles her head against her shoulder and runs her hand through Catra's mane. The soothing gesture makes her sob again, bury her face in the crook of her neck. 

“You're enough, Catra,” she repeats. “You're good enough.” 

She doesn't believe her words. Neither of them actually do, no matter whose lips they come out of. Not yet. But Adora will keep saying it, she will scream it and whisper it in Catra's ear until she can't speak anymore.

And then she'll hold her until she understands.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing these two and I'm a little nervous about characterization so please be gentle with me. Anyway, hope that you liked it. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Also, little to no editing was involve in this.


End file.
